


A Dream of Wonderland

by Girlblunder



Category: Batwoman (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlblunder/pseuds/Girlblunder
Summary: After Kate's disappearance, Sophie knows there's only one person that can be responsible.Things don't go as she planned. Patterns develop, none of which are healthy.
Relationships: Beth Kane | Alice/Sophie Moore
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	A Dream of Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> After a long hiatus from fanfiction, I forgot how nice it is to indulge in some nice, dark unhealthy fic. I've missed it. ♥
> 
> I hesitate to tag this BDSM, because it's, um, complicated. Think about how their relationship is now in canon, and then—yeah. They fight. They... do other things.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, and I really didn't even read through it again for mistakes. Whatever. You'll like it or you won't. xD
> 
> I'll dance in hell when I remember this one.

* * *

The grip in her hair tightens, nails digging into her scalp. She inhales sharply and leans further back, further into the furious heat behind her.

“ _How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spread his claws_ ,” Alice murmurs against the shell of Sophie’s ear. Sophie can hear the grin in Alice’s voice, can picture the certainly sadistic delight on her face. She doesn’t look, though she wonders how well the split lip from last time has healed. She grudgingly shifts her head to Alice’s shoulder and the pressure against her scalp somewhat eases.

Her heart thunders as she grips her gun, uselessly pointed at the ground. Alice’s other hand is braced on her forearm, thumb rubbing almost tenderly over her leather jacket as long as the gun remains pointed away.

“ _And welcome little fishies in with gently smiling jaws_.”

There’s a pause, and Sophie makes a point to stare straight up at the rusted, worn metal rafters high up in the warehouse. She considers the numerous ways she could break the hold, regain the upper hand and take Alice down.

She remains still.

Alice’s breath tickles against the side of her face.

“Well, little fishy? To what do I owe the _pleasure_ ,” she grimaces at the way Alice emphasizes the word, “of this little visit? And so soon after the last?”

Sophie’s chest heaves as she asks herself the same question. Three nights ago, they’d been in a similar position. That night, she’d been sure she’d _kill_ Alice.

“Tell me what you’ve done with Kate.” She means to be commanding, but the words come out breathy and weak.

Alice yanks her hair once, a warning. “Are we still playing this game? It’s getting old. If I find Kate, you’ll see whatever’s left of her on the news.” Alice hums and tilts her head so she’s looking up, too. “A delightful thought, if she hadn’t run away.” When she speaks next, her voice is a low growl. “We both know why you’re really here.”

Sophie suppresses a shiver. Alice’s rage is almost palpable. As the days, weeks, and now months have slipped past, she’s begun warring with her own anger.

Among… other things.

Why had she come? How many times would this happen?

***

_**Two Months Ago** _

When Sophie wakes up, she isn’t sure where she is. The ground is hard under her back, but moving seems like a Bad Idea.

Around her is cool and dark, and pain is lancing through her head in great blinding arcs, radiating from a spot on her temple. She winces and raises a hand to check. It comes away sticky with blood.

The air is thick with dust and a cloying musk she associates with decay. She attempts to open her eyes, only to squeeze them shut when a greater lance of pain immediately greets her. She counts her breaths, steadying herself for the next attempt.

 _Seven, eight, nine_ …

Cold, acrid water suddenly hits her face.

She sputters and coughs, clumsily (and painfully) rolling over onto her knees. She pushes her hair out of her face and squints.

“Where is _Kate_?” Alice growls without preamble as she tosses a metal bucket aside. It lands with a loud clang that makes Sophie wince.

Behind Alice is a flickering light that keeps the room from total darkness. It’s bright enough that Sophie can see the manic fury in Alice’s glinting eyes—and the way her lips tremble as she tries to maintain a smile.

Sophie’s mouth thins into a line as she slowly pushes up, arm braced on a raised knee. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Smile steadying, Alice’s hand dips into the fold of her coat. Metal glimmers in her hand as she idly begins toying with her butterfly knife. “So, it’s a game we’re playing? Oh, I’m afraid I’m just not in the mood.”

Pain still throbbing in her head, Sophie glances quickly around the room. Any henchmen Alice might have brought along aren’t in sight, nor does she hear any indication of anyone else close by.

“Everyone knows you took Kate, so you obviously _are_ in the mood for games.”

She hears the soft clicking as the knife is opened again, then Alice is surging forward with a snarl.

To her frustration, her body responds more sluggishly, clumsily than she would like. She makes it to her feet and half a step back, but barely manages to catch Alice’s arm as it swings toward her. She might have a concussion with how bad her reaction time is. Something to worry about later—if there is a later.

Knife mere inches from her neck, Sophie stumbles when Alice abruptly laughs and leans backward. “I’m not going to kill you, silly. How will you tell me where Kate is if you’re dead?”

With another _snick_ , the blade is temporarily sheathed. Alice presses it to her chin and stares at Sophie. “But I’m not very good at being patient. Tell me what I want to know and,” she bobs her head, “the pain will be _minimal_.”

Sophie frowns. For the last week, the Crows have been tracking Alice with an almost vicious urgency. After the first few days of Kate being gone, there’d been a grim understanding. Kate was probably already dead, lost in some forgotten grave Alice had picked out.

It’s something Sophie refuses to believe. Alice would want to savor victory, not get it over with quickly. It’s why she’s been doing her own tracking. Her last hunch had gotten her close.

Her head throbbed. Obviously.

“Do you honestly think I would be out looking for _you_ if I knew where Kate was?”

Alice’s eye begins twitching. “I said _minimal_ pain.” She bares her teeth in a facsimile of a smile. “And, of course you would. I know, that you know, that I want Kate _dead_.”

Sophie keeps her expression neutral. Is this one of Alice’s tricks? She wants Sophie to think she doesn’t have Kate. “No. No, you’re doing this on purpose so I’ll stop looking. I won’t. I won’t stop until I find Kate.”

Something shifts in Alice’s face then, a ripple of emotion Sophie couldn’t begin to understand. Grey eyes focus on her. “Oh,” Alice says after a beat. A smile grows on her face. “It seems our little Kate has fled the coop. I wonder,” Alice moves fast, her fist landing hard against the side of Sophie’s face.

Clocking the movement just quickly enough to anticipate the punch, Sophie moves her head with the blow to lessen the damage. She stumbles with the force but manages to keep her feet.

“That all you got?”

Alice’s smile is serene. “How long was it after you and your new girl-toy started swapping spit before Kate disappeared? HMM.” She prances away, her hands swinging daintily in the air. “What do you think hurt her worse? Me, wanting her dead, or two of her exes fucking like adorable little rabbits?”

“How did you—”

“Dear Kate would take my call from time to time in hopes of tracking my location. We had the most _delicious_ chats.” Alice spins on her heel to face Sophie. “It all makes sense now. Though, aw,” Alice makes a point to frown, “it does mean _not_ killing you would probably hurt her more.”

Despite the vague assurance, Sophie doesn’t lower her guard. Her arms stay up. She’s ready for the next swing.

Alice gives her a slow onceover, then grins. “Mm, fine, just a _little_ fun.” The knife is tucked back into a pocket, then Alice is again stalking toward her.

Two and a half hours later, bruised and bloody, Sophie is too exhausted to think. She isn’t sure how she’s come to be stretched out on a cot in Mary’s clinic. Vaguely, she remembers a white mask and a hulking figure.

Alice had pressed the advantage of the concussion, though Sophie had gotten many good hits of her own in.

It means little. She stares vacantly up at the ceiling as Mary fusses over her, all soft touches and fast talking.

Is she the reason Kate left? Again?

It was bullshit.

***

**Three Days Ago**

She struggles the entire way, shoulders jerking and legs swinging. Her arms are tied behind her back and her ankles are bound this time, a heavy cloth bag over her head to obscure wherever it is Alice has decided to take shelter.

Sophie should have expected it after she’d taken great joy destroying one of Alice’s favorite hideouts. She _should_ have allowed Gotham PD to take some of the trinkets as evidence, but it had been more satisfying to watch it all burn.

After numerous run-ins, both seeking Alice out and having Alice return the favor, she’d been frustrated when Alice had gone silent for more than a week.

Okay, so maybe she _had_ expected this. She’d known of the last hideout for a while. It had been a reliable place to find Alice on more than one occasion. Until it wasn’t.

One of Alice’s goons grunts when she lands a particularly hard kick, but doesn’t otherwise react. _They_ never hurt her, but it never keeps her from fighting.

They come to a stop after a while. She’s dropped to the ground unceremoniously, landing on her stomach.

She cocks her head as she listens to the sound of the goons’ retreat, muted when a door is shut with a loud screech.

“ _Just at this moment Alice felt a curious sensation, which puzzled her a great deal_.”

Alice’s voice is closer than she expects. She holds her breath.

The only sound in the room is Alice’s slow, wandering footsteps. Three feet away, back to four. Two.

Sophie follows the sound, but doesn’t move. She isn’t sure how Alice will react this time. She’s never sure, exactly, how Alice will react. This time is different. She’d crossed some unwritten boundary of… whatever kind of detente (if it could be called that) they’d come to.

One.

She sucks in a breath as something moves near her left hip, then her right.

“Hm.”

Alice is directly over her. She considers rolling and possibly bringing Alice down. It could work if she hits an ankle just right.

“Now, this simply won’t do.” Alice sighs, and then her hands are gripping Sophie’s elbows. “On your feet,” she says with a grunt.

It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and keeps her off-balance as she relies on Alice’s support to get upright. She half expects to be let go, to tumble back down face first.

The cloth bag, damp with sweat, is becoming difficult to breathe through. The room is warm, and she’d already been sweating from her earlier exertions.

She makes it to her feet. Alice’s left hand slides down to tightly grip her forearm.

“Better,” Alice says with a hum. “Now. You’ve been quite naughty. There I was minding my own business, when I get word that _someone_ ,” Alice yanks her arm, “decided to have a little barbecue.”

Sophie doesn’t respond. She isn’t sure she should, not yet.

“Oh, but where are my manners. Unlike _some_ people, I do have them. And by some people, I’m referring to both you _and_ Kate.”

The bag is yanked from her head, taking a few of her hairs with it. She flinches and blinks as her eyes adjust. They’re in a windowless room, faded wallpaper sagging and hanging from the poorly-kept walls.

An old, low wattage bulb is hanging precariously from the ceiling, revealing dust, dirt, and all manner of detritus left on the floor of the abandoned home.

She hears the _snick_ of Alice’s knife and tenses.

The rope at her feet slackens, followed by the one binding her wrists. She frowns but doesn’t move yet. She isn’t sure what game Alice is playing.

“Oh, come now. I’ve been very nice, all things considered.”

Sophie feels movement, but isn’t sure what it means. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she carefully widens her stance. “You have a questionable understanding of reality.”

Alice chuckles. Her hand is still on Sophie’s forearm. “I know Kate has everyone fooled, but she and I are far more alike than she cares to admit. Except for the manners. She’s so spoiled.”

“ _Except_ for the fact that only one of you is a homicidal maniac.” Sophie hisses when Alice’s right hand is suddenly around her ponytail, yanking and pulling her head back. She flexes her fists but waits.

“Oh, how awkward. I keep forgetting how many little secrets Dear Kate keeps from you.” Alice tries to hide it behind amusement, but Sophie can hear the fury underneath.

Unwilling to bite, Sophie steadies herself. “Where were you this last week? You found Kate, didn’t you?”

Alice clicks her tongue. “I see you’re still fixated on her. What does Julia think of that, I wonder?” A pause. “Does she know how many times you’ve come to see me? Does she know how badly you still want Kate?”

Sophie’s cheeks heat up. Julia had asked about her injuries several times. Despite the different things Sophie had attempted to explain it away, Julia had never believed her. Sophie hadn’t been aware of that until the last time, right before Julia had collected the few things that had accumulated at Sophie’s and left.

She feels Alice lean in, warm breath passing from her lips against the side of Sophie’s face.

“Or,” Alice whispers, “is it just me you’re after, now?”

Revulsion and something else makes Sophie finally move. She swings the back of her head hard into Alice’s temple, pleased when Alice reflexively lets go of her.

Heart pumping, she twists and finds Alice unarmed, grey eyes glittering with a glee as she holds a hand to her head.

“Oh yes, Kate and I _do_ have so much in common.”

Sophie ignores the pain in her own head and springs forward. She isn’t sure how much time passes as she and Alice exchange swings, kicks.

The first time they’d fought, she’d expected Alice’s henchmen to barge in at any moment. After the third time, she’d realized that would never occur. For better or worse, whatever was happening was between her and Alice.

She knows Alice’s moves by heart, can expect the clumsy counter that will come after Sophie feints with her left and strikes with her right. Alice is many things, but she doesn’t have Sophie’s training.

But Alice is no good to Sophie locked up. The Crows have all but given up on ever finding Kate. The only other person still looking, besides Sophie, is Alice.

The iron tang of blood in her mouth is strong, but she doesn’t take time to count the cuts and abrasions.

Alice is sluggish now. They’ve been at it a while, and the blonde hair around her face is plastered to her skin. Her chest is heaving, and it’s clear she’s tired.

A bruise on her cheek, fresh and pink, stands out against her pale skin. The contrast is almost as striking as her eyes.

Sophie has been careful not to hit it directly, though she isn’t sure why.

When Alice misses one swing and Sophie dodges its followup, she knows what comes next.

A flash of fury in hard, shining grey, and then she and Alice are both on the ground as they grapple, twisting this way in that in a flurry of arms and legs.

She gets an awkward hold on Alice from the side, only for Alice to play dirty and fling some dust into her eyes. She hisses and tries to maintain her hold, but something is lodged in her left eye and instinct makes her pull a hand away to try and free it.

An elbow to her solar plexus later, she’s flat on her back and blinking up at Alice. Alice’s knees have her arms painfully pinned to the ground, the lace-gloved hands pressed fiercely into her shoulders.

Alice sneers and dips her head lower, glaring down at Sophie. Her hot, heavy gasps are almost like a physical touch to Sophie’s lips.

After a moment, something changes. The anger in Alice’s expression becomes something Sophie can’t, won’t, identify.

There are streaks of red coming from the bottom right corner of Alice’s mouth, curving up her cheek.

Against her better judgement, her eyes find Alice’s.

She has never thought of Alice as _soft_ , but there is something like that in this look. She knows it.

It only takes her a moment to realize that Kate used to look at her the same way. It’s a crude, grudging sort of tenderness. Like Kate could never help herself, no matter how many times Sophie pushed her away.

Alice’s expression softens even more. She raises a hand to cup Sophie’s jaw. The lace feels scratchy, but Alice’s fingertips are pliant and soft against her skin.

“ _Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words ‘EAT ME’ were beautifully marked in currants._ ” Alice’s face came closer, her lips hovering over Sophie’s. _“_ ‘ _Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice._ ”

All Sophie needed to do was twist her legs and push. Alice would be on the ground before she would even realize it.

Her chest heaves as Alice, eyes still wide open, pushes a thumb hard against the cut on her chin, and kisses her.

***

_**Now** _

Though her mind had skirted around it the entire way over, she knows what she needs. It isn’t a want. It isn’t a desire.

Except it _is_. A twisted, terrible thing that she’ll never admit to anyone.

“What do you think would hurt her worse?” Alice murmurs, just before she plants a soft kiss to Sophie’s jaw.

Sophie closes her eyes, denying the ripple of pleasure down her spine she isn’t sure is due to the contact, the words, or both. She hates herself as she leans into the next kiss.

She can feel Alice smile.

“No guns,” Alice instructs with a delicate tap to Sophie’s arm.

She thinks for a moment, then slowly holsters the weapon. The hand in her hair relaxes, now massaging and gently tugging, rather than yanking and scratching.

With a breath, she straightens and turns. Alice is a few inches taller than Kate, yet another difference between the two.

But the way Alice’s lower lip quivers when Sophie cups her face in both hands and pushes forward with her body, is the same.

When she kisses Alice, there is nothing soft about it. Her mouth is unforgiving against Alice’s, nipping and demanding until Alice’s opens and Sophie begins sucking on her lower lip. Their hips bump as she continues to push Alice and, stumbling, they fall to the floor.

She doesn’t expect Alice to allow it, the restless way her hands tug and pull and peel away the layers keeping Alice’s skin from hers. She hesitates only when Alice’s hands find the way to her belt, and she sighs into Alice’s lips when it (and her holster), are pushed as far away as Alice can manage.

After its away, she expects Alice to change—for teeth to gnash and nails to dig—but Alice’s bare hips only buck freely up into hers.

Something burns fiercer and hotter in Sophie. She realizes that maybe Alice is more right than she knows.

She takes both of Alice’s wrists into her hands when Alice attempts to begin unbuttoning her shirt. “No,” comes the command. “My rules.”

Her eyes lock with Alice’s, and she sees the silent argument Alice has with herself in the anger, need, and desire that shift in her expression. After a pause, Alice grins. “This time.”

Sophie’s nostrils flare at the assumption, and she bends to bite Alice’s shoulder once. She doesn’t break the skin and, just like Kate, Alice’s back arches.

 _Fuck_. She softly licks the red-pink skin of the bite, knowing that Alice is right again, and hating her all the more for it.

Alice’s legs hook around her hips and she presses down rhythmically, unsurprised when wet heat begins to seep through her cotton slacks.

She releases Alice’s wrists and lets her hands roam, her mouth leaving angry pink trails along Alice’s fair neck and clavicle as she braces an arm against the ground. Her right hand teases it way down, down, until Sophie is sucking in a surprised breath.

“I told you,” Alice says in a strained voice. Her eyes are heavy lidded and challenging, and Sophie doesn’t look away as she slides one, and then two fingers through Alice’s arousal and then as deep as they’ll go.

Alice’s eyes droop dangerously, somehow remaining a sliver open as Sophie begins a slow, steady pace.

Sophie strains with the effort it takes to remain firm, unflinching. She can see and feel the gradual changes in Alice, the tautness in her body, the jerky way her hips roll up into Sophie’s after the nth thrust. Her arms move agitatedly above her head, but remain mostly in place.

Finally, Alice’s eyes close as she tightens around Sophie, and Sophie lowers her head to pepper kisses along Alice’s neck to reward the surrender, involuntary or not.

Briefly, all is still, save unsteady swelling of their chests.

Then Alice’s hands find their way to the back of Sophie’s head, slightly painful and completely demanding as Alice leans up to roughly suck at Sophie’s pulse point.

“I owed you that one,” Alice admits with a shuddering sigh. She drops back to the ground so she can look directly as Sophie. Her grin is all glinting teeth. “But all bets are off now.”

And, silently admitting to herself that Kate and Alice _do_ have a few certain things in common, Sophie smirks. “We’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jiminy Cricket I've been writing in past tense too long. I kept slipping. Sorry if I missed some of that slippage.
> 
> Uh... hope you enjoyed the story? xD
> 
> If you're curious, I wrote the last part entirely to Meg Myers - "Desire" (Hucci Remix).


End file.
